Remembrance and Service

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

April 17, 2022

Maundy Thursday 

Exodus 12:1-14

Psalm 116:1, 10-17

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Remembrance and Service

For a while, Jesus had predicted his fate, trying to prepare his disciples for all that was going to happen in Jerusalem, during the days around Passover, in a time of turmoil.

But Jesus’ closest friends would not – or could not – accept that their friend, the one they had come to know and love as Lord was going to suffer and die.

We know how it is.

But, in a city on edge, Jesus and his disciples gathered around the table for what everyone must have realized would be their last supper together.

The hard truth was sinking in.

It would have been understandable to simply sit quietly for a while in the terrible sadness of it all, but, instead, Jesus the great teacher uses this precious opportunity to share a few last, most important lessons.

At this last supper with his friends, Jesus takes and blesses bread and wine and promises that he will always be with them – he will always be with us - when we gather together around the table to remember him.

And Jesus also washes the feet of his disciples, an act of service so outrageously lowly that Peter, reasonably enough, is shocked, and insists that he simply will not allow it.

The fisherman says flat out, “You will never wash my feet.”

But Jesus patiently explains that this is how it must be – this is how it must be if Peter and the others want to be part of Jesus, want to be part of his community of love and service.

Hearing that, Peter, finally showing some wisdom, quickly gives in, enthusiastically inviting Jesus to wash not just his feet, but his whole body.

When the foot-washing was complete, Jesus gives his great command – in Latin, the mandatum - that gives Maundy Thursday its name. 

Jesus gives his great command that we are to love one another as he loves us.

And this love is not so much a nice warm feeling.

        No, this love is action – this love is expressed by offering lowly, costly service. This love is shared by washing feet. 

 

        Many of you know that I like to mention how the disciples were often clueless, frequently fell short, they just didn’t get Jesus.

        It’s a consolation for those of us who are often clueless, frequently fall short, just don’t get Jesus.

         But, despite all the turmoil of that night and the days ahead, despite the heartbreak of the cross and the wonder of the empty tomb, despite all of that and much more to come, the disciples remembered.

        They remembered these most important lessons and they passed them down through the generations, all the way to us here this evening.

Especially in our own time of turmoil, these are lessons that we need to hear and learn again.

We are not alone.

Jesus is among us – really with us – in the Bread and the Wine, really present each time we gather and remember him.

And our own time of turmoil has both caused and revealed so much suffering all around us – making us even more acutely aware of just how many feet need washing.

We wash feet by caring for our parishioners who are sick, lonely, sad, frightened.

We wash feet by feeding the people at Paul’s Place, by providing supplies for the people who line up week after week at the Community Crisis Center, by teaching the children at Owings Mills Elementary School.

We wash feet by welcoming and loving our Afghan friends and neighbors.

Yes, especially today, we need to hear and learn the lessons of Jesus, we need to remember his command to love one another.

Near the end of this evening’s service, we will follow the ancient practice of “stripping” the altar, putting away most of sacred objects and furnishings, symbolizing the end of the Last Supper, and preparing for Good Friday.

And, just as Jesus spent the night praying in the garden, we will bring the Bread and Wine, the Body and Blood of Christ, here to our beautiful little garden.

We will conclude in silence.

I invite you to stay for at least a few quiet minutes of prayer and reflection.

Remember Jesus, his teachings, his example, his sacrifice – remember his command for us to love one another.

And recommit to washing feet.

Amen.

Pouring Out Lessons

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

March 28, 2024

Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-14

Psalm 116:1, 10-17

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Pouring Out Lessons

This past Sunday was the most unsettling day of the Christian Year.

In fact, it’s such an unsettling day that we can’t even decide on one name for it.

It’s officially called “The Sunday of the Passion – Palm Sunday.”

At 10:00, we began out in the parking lot with the Palm Procession, remembering and, sort of, reenacting King Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, when he was greeted with palms and shouts of “Hosanna,” which means, “Lord, save us.”

Lord, save us.

But once we got into the church, the mood turned fast, as we quickly, jarringly, jumped ahead from the palms to the Passion.

It turned out that Jesus wasn’t the kind of King that anyone expected or seemed to want. 

Since he wasn’t a mighty warrior like King David, since he wasn’t going to expel the Roman occupiers and restore Israel’s earthly glory, the people turned against him and the Romans brutally killed him as they killed so many other rebels and would-be kings.

On Sunday, before we knew it, we were shouting along with the ancient crowd, “Crucify him!”

Before we knew it, we were at the foot of the Cross, as Jesus poured out himself: his blood, his love, his life, even his hope.

Emptiness.

Or so it seemed.

And now here, this evening, we back up a day.

We’re still in Jerusalem and the “Hosannas” from the Palm Parade must have still been echoing in Jesus’ ears and in the ears of his disciples, his friends.

It’s hard to know if the disciples really got swept up in all the excitement.

Did they remember that Jesus had been predicting for some time that he would be rejected and killed – and that he would rise again on the third day?

How much of that could the notoriously clueless disciples really grasp and truly accept?

I don’t know.

I do know that it’s hard – so very hard – to face that someone we love is going to suffer and die.

But now, during that long ago evening in Jerusalem, as Jesus and his friends gathered around the table for one last meal, the hard truth must have been sinking in.

And so, with time running out, Jesus the Great Teacher offers some final, most important lessons.

Pouring out lessons.

Jesus blesses the bread and the wine and shares it with his friends, saying this is his Body and Blood, poured out for them – poured out for us - his Body and Blood poured into our hearts, each time we gather around the Table and remember him.

And to the shock and dismay of Peter and probably the others, too, Jesus gets up from the table, pours water into a basin and begins washing his disciples’ feet, yes, including even Judas, who is about to betray him.

Jesus, pouring out himself in loving and lowly service.

And Jesus commands his friends – it’s the “mandate” that gives Maundy Thursday its name – Jesus commands us that if we wish to follow Jesus we must wash feet, too.

We must pour out our lives in loving and lowly service.

We must love one another as Jesus has loved us.

Pouring out lessons.

In a few minutes, we will gather at the Table with Jesus and with one another for the final time until Easter morning.

And at the conclusion of tonight’s service, we will clear away all of the holy objects.

“Stripping the altar” it’s called, preparing for the humiliation and suffering and death that Jesus will face tomorrow, on Good Friday.

And we will bring the Body and Blood of Christ to our beautiful little “Altar of Repose,” echoing Jesus’ night in the Garden of Gethsemane, a night of agonizing prayer and preparation.

By then, there really won’t be anything left to say, so we’ll depart in silence, prepared as best we can be for tomorrow, for the hardest day of the Church Year.

Tomorrow, Jesus will give away himself on the Cross: pouring out his blood, his love, his life, even his hope.

Poured out until nothing was left, nothing but emptiness.

Or so it will seem.

Because, even on the hard days,

Especially on the hardest days:

God is never empty.

God is always full of life and love.

Life and love, poured out, in and through Jesus.

Life and love, shared with us.

Remembrance

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

April 6, 2023

Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-14

Psalm 116:1, 10-17

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Remembrance

You may have seen in the news recently that the Vatican has just formally disavowed what’s called the Doctrine of Discovery.

If you don’t know, the Doctrine of Discovery was an idea first promoted by several popes, beginning back in the 1400’s, giving some European countries pretty much a blank check to do whatever they liked with the land and people of Africa and the Americas. 

The Doctrine of Discovery led to the creation of the slave trade, the suffering and deaths of uncountable millions, the destruction of land, the theft of resources, racism, and more.

And the consequences of the Doctrine of Discovery live on today, punishing some, and benefiting others, depending…

So, admittedly, it’s a little late, but it’s good that the Church formally repudiated what was clearly an un-Christian and a deeply sinful idea and practice.

I mention all of this because the popes who blessed the Doctrine of Discovery and the men who executed it – they were all Christians – and yet, somehow, they were convinced that it was OK to do these horrible things – and not only that, they believed that God blessed these terrible deeds.

It seems that these Christians just didn’t get it, or forgot, or chose to ignore, what is at the heart of our faith.

Of course, this is a really old story, one going all the way back to the beginning.

In fact, a theme that runs through the gospels is that the disciples – that decidedly mixed bag of people chosen by Jesus to be his closest followers – the disciples very often just did not get it.

My favorite example of this is found in the Gospel of Mark.

Jesus predicts to his disciples that he is going to suffer, die, and rise again on the third day.

That should have been a lot for Jesus’ friends to take in, right?

Probably their most appropriate response would simply be to pray or at least keep a respectful silence.

But, instead, the brother disciples James and John use this as an opportunity to ask Jesus if, in the kingdom, they can sit at his right and at his left.

(In Matthew’s version of this story, it’s the mother of James and John who makes this request. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.)

We’re told that the other disciples overheard this request and they got angry at James and John – probably because they all wanted the best seats in the kingdom!

A remarkably patient Jesus uses this as a teachable moment, saying, “whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant; and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.”

In other words, the disciples were called to follow Jesus’ example.

Now, we are not told if the disciples grasped Jesus’ teaching on servant leadership, but, knowing their track record, and based on what we heard in today’s gospel lesson, I think we can probably guess.

Today is Maundy Thursday. It is a day for remembrance.

On Maundy Thursday, we especially remember the Last Supper.

Jesus and his disciples were in Jerusalem at the Passover, the great festival when Jews, then and now, remember God liberating them from Egyptian slavery.

At this particular Passover, Jerusalem was full of Jewish pilgrims from all over, and the mood in the occupied city was a combustible mix of hope and anxiety.

And what about the mood in the room where Jesus and his friends have gathered?

Well, even for the thickheaded disciples, maybe the hard truth was finally beginning to settle in: Jesus, their friend and Lord, was about to suffer and die.

Jesus certainly knew that time is running out.

And so the Master Teacher offered a couple of lessons – lessons that he must have hoped would be unforgettable.

Jesus blessed the bread and wine – told his friends that this was his body and blood – broken and poured out for them – and he told them to continue gathering around the table in memory of him. 

And then there was the second lesson.

The Evangelist John tells us that Jesus washed the feet of his disciples.

How shocking that must have been! 

Peter certainly wasn’t having it – at least, not at first.

Jesus commands his followers to follow his example and wash each other’s feet, to offer humble and loving service to one another.

Who knows, after getting their feet washed by the Lord, maybe James and John finally gave up their ambition for the best seats in the house!

Today is a day for remembrance.

The Church never forgot the Last Supper, of course.

We’ve continued gathering around the Table.

And we’ve never quite forgotten the foot-washing, either – it’s in the Bible, after all, and we retell the story every year on this day.

But I wonder if we have truly remembered Jesus’ humble act of loving service – I wonder if we’ve truly remembered the call to wash each other’s feet?

I mean, if we had truly remembered, how could we have come up with - and even blessed (!) - something like the Doctrine of Discovery and all the other awful things Christians have done and continue to do?

We are commanded – it’s the mandatum that gives Maundy Thursday its name – we are commanded to love one another as Jesus has loved us.

Instead of hurting others, we are meant to wash their feet.

Today is a day for remembrance.

Near the end of this evening’s service we will “strip the altar,” removing just about everything. 

And finally, we will bring the Body and Blood of Christ to our beautiful little Altar of Repose, symbolizing the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus wept and prayed on the night before his arrest, before all that was to come.

But, this evening, in our own time of hope and anxiety, before we move onto the rest of Holy Week and the great joy of Easter, let’s really try to get it.

With God’s help, let’s truly remember what Jesus the foot-washer teaches us, what Jesus commands us:

Love one another.

In a Time of Turmoil, Remembrance and Service

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

April 14, 2022

Maundy Thursday 

Exodus 12:1-14

Psalm 116:1, 10-17

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

In a Time of Turmoil, Remembrance and Service

For a long time, Jesus had predicted his fate, trying to prepare his disciples for all that was going to happen in Jerusalem, during the days around Passover, in a time of turmoil.

But, you know how it is, right?

Jesus’ closest friends would not – or could not – accept that the one they had come to know and love as Lord was going to suffer and die.

But, with the city outside in turmoil, Jesus and his disciples gathered around the table for what everyone must have realized would be their last supper together.

The hard truth was sinking in.

It would have been understandable to simply sit for a while in the terrible sadness of it all, but instead Jesus the great teacher uses this precious opportunity to get across a few last, most important lessons.

At this last supper with his friends, Jesus takes and blesses bread and wine and promises that he will always be with them - always be with us - when we gather together around the table to remember him.

And, as we heard this evening, Jesus also washes the feet of his disciples, an act of service so lowly that Peter, reasonably enough, is shocked, and insists that he simply will not allow it.

The fisherman says flat out, “You will never wash my feet.”

But Jesus patiently explains that this is how it must be – this is how it must be if Peter and the others want to be part of Jesus, part of this community.

Hearing that, Peter, showing some wisdom, quickly gives in, enthusiastically inviting Jesus to wash not just his feet, but his whole body.

When the foot-washing was complete, Jesus gives the command – the mandatum - that gives Maundy Thursday its name: the command that we are to love one another as Jesus loves us.

And this love is not merely a nice warm feeling.

No, this love is action – this love is expressed by offering lowly service – this love is shared by washing feet. 

Jesus the great teacher managed to get these lessons across, because despite all the turmoil of that night and the days ahead, despite the heartbreak of the cross and the wonder of the empty tomb, despite all of that and much more to come, the disciples remembered these most important lessons and passed them down through the generations, all the way to us here this evening.

My sense is that during our own time of turmoil, especially the many months when we were forced apart, when we could not gather around the table as Christians have done for two millennia - my sense is that we have come to appreciate the Bread – and soon, the Wine - more than ever.

Shocked out of our familiar routines, we recognize more clearly that Jesus really is present in the bread and wine, really is present when we remember him.

And, our own time of turmoil has also revealed so much need all around us – making us more acutely aware of just how many feet need washing.

So, in our time of turmoil, you found creative ways to continue serving the people at Paul’s Place and the Community Crisis Center.

You have been caring for each other with even more tenderness – more calls made, more cards sent, more prayers offered.

In our time of turmoil, we have been looking at new ways of being a servant church, new ways to love the people beyond our doors and walls.

And now we are on the cusp of welcoming Afghan refugees to their new home, offering loving service to long-suffering people whose worn-out feet have brought them so far from home.

Near the end of this evening’s service, we will follow the ancient practice of “stripping” the altar, putting away most of the furnishings and ornaments, symbolizing the end of the Last Supper, and preparing for Good Friday.

We will conclude by bringing the Bread, the Body of Christ, here to the garden.

I invite you to stay for at least a few quiet minutes of prayer and reflection.

Remember Jesus, his teachings, his example, his sacrifice – remember his command to love one another - and recommit to washing feet.

Amen.

Jesus, Teacher of Hope

The Church of St. Paul and Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

April 1, 2021

Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-4, 11-14

Psalm 116:1, 10-17

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Jesus, Teacher of Hope

In the gospels there are many titles for Jesus, but one of the most common is one that we heard tonight:

Teacher.

Jesus’ own disciples often call him “teacher,” as do others who are curious, or maybe even skeptical, about his message.

Jesus the teacher.

And, all these centuries later, Jesus is still rightfully celebrated as the great teacher. After all, we still remember the lessons that he taught long ago. We are still learning the lessons that he continues to teach us.

Tonight, on Maundy Thursday, we remember Jesus the teacher gathered with his closest disciples for one last meal.

For some time, Jesus had been predicting his suffering and death, but, understandably enough, his friends and followers did not – or maybe could not – hear what he was trying to tell them.

But now, together at the table one last time, the truth must have been sinking in.

And now, with time growing short, Jesus the teacher uses this meal as an opportunity to teach a few final, most important, lessons.

Jesus the teacher uses the most vivid and unforgettable imagery available in an effort to get through to his friends who, while lovable, often had a hard time understanding his meaning.

So, Jesus takes and blesses the bread and wine – this is me, he says, broken and poured out for you.

Jesus promises, each time you gather at the table just like this, I am here – I am among you always.

Do this in memory of me.

The second lesson of the Last Supper is perhaps even more stunning and memorable – it’s the lesson we reenact here just once a year, but we should probably do it more often.

Jesus washes the feet of his friends – an act so down-side up that Peter immediately objects.

But, to Peter’s credit, when he realizes the stakes, he gives in pretty quickly.

Peter and the others finally learn that following Jesus means allowing him to wash us.

Following Jesus means washing the feet of our brothers and sisters, offering loving service to people whose feet are covered with dust – caring for people whose hearts are covered with the dust of suffering and despair.

And, in one of the biggest miracles of this whole story, the disciples did not forget Jesus’ lessons.

They remembered what Jesus taught that night and passed on these lessons to us.

And, we’ve been breaking bread and washing feet ever since.

A year ago when Sue and I were alone here for our Maundy Thursday service with all of you watching on Facebook, the pandemic and virtual worship was still very new to us.

We consoled ourselves by thinking that we would need to do this just once and that a year later the thirty or so of us who usually gather for this service would be back again, some of us choosing to have our feet washed in what is always a beautiful and awkward moment.

But, now, a year later, it’s still just the two of us here.

And after the year of suffering that we have endured – and with an uncertain future ahead – I’m learning something new from Jesus’ lessons – or, at least something that’s new to me, anyway.

Yes, Jesus is teaching that he will always be with us in the bread and the wine, in our community.

Yes, Jesus is teaching that we must be washed in Baptism and give away our lives in loving service to others.

But, you know, gathered around for that final meal, facing the death of the one they had come to know as the One, the first disciples must have looked to the future with only fear and dread.

How could they go on?

What new horrors awaited them?

And now for us, after all we’ve been through this past year – a raging pandemic, political instability, a shattered economy, ugly prejudice and brutal violence against people seen as “other,” after all we’ve been through this past year, maybe we also look to the future with fear and dread.

And so tonight, Jesus teaches hope – hope – not magic, not wishful thinking, and not even optimism - but hope.

Just when it seemed like we were reaching the end of the story, Jesus points to the future.

Jesus teaches that this isn’t the end, it’s a beginning.

No matter what terrible things may happen, Jesus will always be present in the bread and the wine.

Jesus will always here in the community when we gather around the table. Yes, even on Facebook.

Hope.

Jesus points to the future that God and we can build together – a future we make real by washing the feet of people so desperately in need of kindness – a future we make real by giving away our lives in loving service to others – a future we make real by following Jesus’ command to love one another as he has loved us.

Hope.

Just when it seemed like we were reaching the end of the story, Jesus points to the future.

So, tonight, like the first disciples, in our own time of fear and despair, let’s learn from Jesus the teacher.

Let’s learn his lessons of bread, wine, and water.

Let’s learn his lessons of love.

Let’s learn his lessons of hope.

Amen.

 

Lessons of Love

The Church of St. Paul and Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

April 9, 2020

Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-4, 11-14

Psalm 116:1, 10-17

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Lessons of Love

            Over the past few Sundays as Sue and I have gathered here for worship, just the two of us, I’ve been reminded of when I was just starting out in the church. Back then, I used to practice my sermons on a congregation of one – the same person who is our lone congregant today.

            She’s a good sport.

            Anyway, back then I’d give my sermon in our living room and she would sit and listen, attentively and politely, sometimes laughing or nodding at the appropriate points, sometimes not, and then after I was done I would look to her for feedback.

 We quickly discovered that the best way for her to help me was for her to tell me what she thought my sermon was about – what she remembered and what seemed to be most important.

            Sometimes in those early months – though I’m sure it happens nowadays, too – whatever I was trying to say would get lost in my many words, my habit of giving too much information, my tendency to forget that I was teaching.

            In fact, back during those days Sue gave me my single best piece of preaching advice: she told me to use repetition – to repeat whatever point I was trying to make, to repeat it even if I thought I sounded like a broken record, because, for the lesson to sink in and really take hold, people listening needed to hear it over and over.

            It’s good advice.

            And, in fact, I’m sure that’s exactly how Jesus taught.

            Throughout his ministry, as he traveled from place to place, Jesus must have repeated many of the same stories, retaught many of the same lessons.

            After all, in each new place there were people who had never heard them before.

            And also, we know that Jesus’ disciples were, let’s say, a little dense - and obviously needed to hear these stories, to learn these lessons of love, over and over again.

            Unfortunately, Jesus didn’t have all the time in the world.

            And, when he and his disciples arrived in Jerusalem for that final Passover, Jesus knew that time was running out.

            And, even the disciples - despite their usual cluelessness, despite all the excitement of being in Jerusalem for Passover – even the disciples were beginning to understand that time was growing short.

            And so, with no time to waste, without the luxury of repetition, Jesus does some of his very best teaching.

Jesus uses only a few words, shocking everyone, especially Peter, by getting on his knees and doing the servant’s work of washing feet – offering an unforgettable lesson on how we are to love one another.

            With no time to waste, Jesus takes the bread and the wine, and teaches that this is who he is, broken and poured out for us – and Jesus promises to be with us each time we gather around the table, each time we remember him.

            Lessons of love.

            Jesus taught so well.

Although we have never forgotten these lessons, we have repeated these lessons over and over in countless places and ways, for two thousand years – washing feet, sharing bread and wine.

But I wonder if we’re learning these lessons of love in an even deeper way during this time of trouble.

            Normally at this service we follow Jesus’ example by doing a ritual foot-washing. Sue and I will do just that in a few minutes and you are invited to wash each other’s feet – or, if you’re alone, you can wash your hands using the prayer on page 9 in the booklet.

            And, a little while after that, we’ll celebrate the Eucharist for one last time until Easter and then we will spend a few minutes praying with Jesus in the garden, and then we will leave him alone for a time.  

            But in these hard days time when most of us can’t touch one another, when we can’t taste the bread and the wine on our tongues, it’s good for us to remember that Jesus’ lessons are not really about feet and not even really about the bread and the wine.

            Lessons of love.

            This evening’s lessons are about God’s love that we see most clearly in Jesus – Jesus who served others and expects us to do the same – Jesus who promises to be with us each time we gather around the table, no matter what, even if it’s on Facebook.

            Usually at this service there are relatively few of us – Thursday evening at 7 doesn’t work for everybody – but I’m guessing there are a lot more of us tuning in this year.
            Partly that's convenience.

            But, we’re here because we’ve recently been reminded that we don’t have all the time in the world – and there are some lessons that we really need to learn – some lessons that we need to learn again.

            Lessons of love.

            Amen.

As Shadows Lengthen

The Church of St. Paul & Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

April 18, 2019

Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-4, 11-14

Psalm 116:1, 10-17

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

As Shadows Lengthen

            On Sunday we retold the story of Jesus’ betrayal, arrest, torture, and death.

            And, so, if you were here then, tonight may be a little disorienting because we’ve backed up just a little – we’ve backed up just a little to retell the story of the Last Supper of Jesus and his disciples.

            All four gospels tell the story of the Last Supper, though they tell it in somewhat different ways, which is to be expected since they were dependent on the memories of people who must have been caught up in the moment and not so concerned with keeping an exact record of what occurred that night.

            But, we know all that we really need to know.

We know that Jesus and his closest followers and friends were in Jerusalem for the most sacred feast of Passover – a time when the Jewish people deeply remember and celebrate that God had liberated them from slavery.

            Passover was and is a sacred time and also a joyful time for Jews – but the mood was decidedly different that night among Jesus and his friends.

            Throughout his ministry, Jesus had warned his friends about what was going to happen to him – and the disciples either didn’t understand or, more likely, chose not to understand – just as we all tend to look away from news that is just too hard to bear.

            And now, the days of Jesus traveling from town to town teaching and healing have come to an end.

We have moved from light to lengthening shadows.

So, that night in Jerusalem there was a sense of urgency, a sense of time running out, a sense that, as best as he can, Jesus must teach these last, most important lessons - before it’s too late.

            And, Jesus the Great Teacher knows that we learn from actions far better than we remember just words.

            So, to everyone’s shock – especially poor Peter who as usual just doesn’t get it, at least not right away – Jesus got up from the table and began to wash the feet of his friends.

            Even now it’s a very lowly, uncomfortable, and even intimate act of service – awkward for the one washing, and the one being washed.

Footwashing is a lowly, uncomfortable, and intimate act of service – one that nobody was likely to ever forget – it would be a lowly act of service for anyone but especially for the Son of God!

            And, Jesus says – no, more than that, he commands - that this is how we are to care for one another.

            We his followers are to offer lowly and loving service, especially to those who can never wash our feet - those who can never pay us back.

            That’s why we feed the hungry.

            That’s why we shelter the homeless.

            That’s why we strive to welcome and love absolutely everybody who walks through our doors.

            That’s why tomorrow morning we’ll carry the cross through the streets of Jersey City, stopping to pray and bless at places of pain and sorrow.

            And then the second lesson that Jesus offered that night is the one that is much more familiar to us – the lesson that we retell and reenact every time we gather at the Lord’s Table.

Jesus took the bread and the wine, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to his friends, telling them and us that this is how we are to remember him.

            It’s probably no surprise that, although a few Christians have continued the practice of footwashing, and we’ll do just that in a moment, most have not made it a regular practice.

            But, as St. Paul writes to the Corinthians, pretty much from the start, Christians gathered around the table with the Bread and the Wine, not just remembering and receiving the presence of Jesus.

            But, especially in a time of shadow, the truth is that we need both – we need to offer loving service and we need to gather at the table to receive the holy food and drink.

            Especially as shadows lengthen, these are the most important lessons of all.

            Amen.